


Of Dragon Slaying and Displays of Affection

by Ponaco



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponaco/pseuds/Ponaco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After slaying the dragon Vinsomer on the Storm Coast Dorian and Rawley Trevelyan find a way to celebrate</p>
<p>(This came about after a reference to this evening in my post-Trespasser fic As I am)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“That was a hell of a fight, Boss! A hell of a fight!” The Iron Bull exclaimed, slapping Rawley on the back hard enough to make the smaller man lurch forward and spill a good portion of his drink.

Rawley laughed in reply and took a sip of the remaining liquor, pulling a face at the bitter liquid inside. “Ugh, how can you drink this?” he asked, taking another sip despite his obvious displeasure at the taste.

Bull’s answering laugh echoed throughout the noisy tavern, causing more than one patron to crane their neck to see what was so hilarious. Dorian watched with slightly narrowed eyes as the Bull draped his arm around Rawley’s shoulder and poured the already tipsy Inquisitor another drink. It wasn’t jealousy that squiggled in his belly, but envy that flared with every new touch or shared smile. He contemplated making up an excuse to sidle up alongside him for a few less-than-innocent touches of his own. Green eyes, sleepy from drink and an exhausting day of dragon-slaying caught him staring and the grin that crinkled them at the corners let Dorian know he didn’t need an excuse at all.

“Dorian!” Rawley called, waving him over with his mug, oblivious to the mess he made in doing so. “Dorian, Dorian, you have to hear what Bull was saying,” he said, laughing around an excited hiccup. “Tell him about that time in Val Royeaux with the Comtesse.”

“Oh, I don’t think he wants to hear about that,” The Bull replied.

He flashed a smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth with the glee of a withheld secret. The Qunari was playing a game with him; mischievous grins and a tightened grip on Rawley’s shoulders that could only appear more obvious if he excitedly pointed to the contact with his free hand. Dorian was fairly certain Rawley wouldn’t notice even if pointing did occur. He was two mugs in of the poison Bull called a drink and struck with a seemingly incurable case of the giggles. Dorian however, knew what Bull was doing. Normally he would meet the Qunari head on, but tonight he was interested in an entirely different kind of teasing.

“Naughty Orlesian gossip?” Dorian chuckled, sliding his hand up Rawley’s leg to rest at a height not entirely appropriate for mixed company. “Perish the thought,” he said, giving Rawley’s leg a squeeze.

The Inquisitor choked on his drink as Dorian’s hand moved up the inside of his thigh. An instant blush flared to life across his face and down beneath the collar of his shirt. Dorian smiled at the thought of how that blush probably reached halfway down his chest. He could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, low thrums of heat like the shimmering air beside a camp fire. He pressed a chaste kiss to Rawley’s cheek, wanting desperately to stoke those fires until his skin burned like red-hot coals and threatened an inferno with every touch.

“A story for another time, perhaps,” Dorian said. “I’m going to call it an early night, I’m afraid.”  
He leaned in close to Rawley’s ear, leaving his breath hot and wanting on the other man’s neck. “You should join me, yes?” he whispered, turning away before Rawley could answer or more likely blush scarlet at the implication.

The noise of the tavern followed Dorian up the stairs towards the small room he rented for the night. Boisterous laughter and the clank of mugs raised in celebration faded to a dull buzz when he turned down the narrow hallway. Dorian took his time fishing the keys from his pocket. He could feel Rawley before he saw him; flashes of bright flame and an all-encompassing warmth that settled pleasantly in his belly until strong arms wrapped around him from behind.

“You said something about joining you?” Rawley breathed.

Dorian could feel him smile against his neck before those same lips pressed a searing kiss along his skin. He turned to capture those lips in a frantic and somewhat sloppy kiss. Excited hands and the eager press of hips moved to the sounds of quiet moans and happy, muffled laughter. Done with playful teasing, Dorian gripped the front of Rawley’s coat and pushed him against the wall. Another kiss and a firm press of his hand earned him an appreciative gasp.

“You…surprised me,” Rawley said, trying with little success to hold back a moan as Dorian stroked him through the rough leather of his breeches.

“Surprised that I asked you to join me?” he asked, punctuating the question with an increase of pressure with his hand. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“No, that’s…not what I meant, Maker I’m not going to last very long if you keep doing that,” he replied, his next moan mixing with a deep chuckle. “I meant down in the tavern, when you grabbed my…leg,” he cleared his throat and flushed redder still. “In front of Bull. I know you don’t like touching in public. I should kill dragons more often.”

It is meant as a joke, said with a smile and a flash of heat. There’s a hard truth beneath the teasing words, a desperate need in the press of bodies. The silent lurk of shame clinging to the dark corners and fleeting touches. It cooled the growing warmth between them and settled like a weight in Dorian’s chest, clawing at each breath until his lungs burned with the strain and his blood stung like ice in his veins. He lifted his hands to take hold of Rawley’s face, despite the whimper of protest.

“I…you must understand, where I come from, discretion is…it is a necessity for…for someone like me. It is in no way a reflection of my affections…”

“Oh, no, no I didn’t…I know,” Rawley said, cutting him off, eyes wide and frantic. “I know, I understand, I didn’t mean…I was raised in the Circle, Dorian. I understand discretion. I didn’t…it was a joke. I would never want you to do something you weren’t comfortable with, I…” he sighed and crinkled his nose. “I’ve ruined the evening, haven’t I?”

The kiss that followed lingered, chasing back the cold to the edges and corners. Foreheads pressed together, lips nearly touching Dorian leaned forward just enough to nudge the tip of his nose until he earned the tiny smile he so desperately hoped for.

“Never,” he said, tilting his chin up to kiss him once more. “But that’s not all of it, yes?” he asked, afraid of the answer, but needing to hear it.

Rawley pinched his eyes shut and took in a breath that seemed to stretch from the tops of his shoulders to the tips of his toes. “It’s not important,” he murmured, instantly recognizing the resolute look in Dorian’s eyes. “It’s…it’s just I’m not in the Circle anymore and you’re not in the Imperium. We shouldn’t have to hide anymore. We shouldn’t have to follow their rules.”

“Hmm, so you want I should ravish you right on the bar for all to see?” Dorian replied.

His smirk faltered, the teasing only making the crease on Rawley’s forehead deepen.

“Maker, no…nothing like that. I…” another sigh lifted his shoulders. “I’d like to sit beside you at a campfire and share a blanket or kiss you without you looking around to see who might be watching.”

His honesty threw Dorian off balance as it always did. There was no hint of sarcasm or ulterior motives. He was used to the game, to teasing, to being a port in a storm for someone with no intentions of staying beyond the reach of a bedroom door. He buried the desire for something more so far down within him he barely recognized the possibility when it stood before him and asked for nothing more than shared affection. The quiet proclamation of those desires spoken to him by another even as the glaring hint of doubt flashed in those green eyes with every indication that he did not expect Dorian to share in that want.

“I,” Dorian swallowed, startled by the struggle to speak. “I would like that.”

He cursed softly at his own ineloquence. His cheeks flushed with warmth at the unabashed grin spread across Rawley’s face. He wanted to kiss that smile until his lungs burned for air and his lips ached. He pulled Rawley towards him, fingers curled into the soft hair at the back of his head. It was rushed and bruising and left them both with an ache of another kind.

“You’re a bad influence with your stupid honesty,” Dorian grumbled, fumbling to open the door without breaking contact. “I have a reputation to uphold you know.”

“What, as a liar?” Rawley replied, pushing open the stubborn door with his hip.

“Well, that yes, but also I’m the evil Tevinter mage corrupting the Herald of Andraste. That last bit loses some of its punch if we’re snuggling at a fireside or picnicking in the Hinterlands,” Dorian fretted, kicking the door shut behind them. “Honestly, what will people think?”

“I don’t care what people think,” Rawley replied.

He placed his palms flat against Dorian’s chest and pushed him backwards onto the small bed. The old bedframe groaned in protest and Dorian wondered for a brief second if it might give way under their combined weight. The press of Rawley’s body against his made those concerns a fleeting memory. His hands hot to the touch, snaked their way inside Dorian’s shirt. He traced each rib and the dip of Dorian’s hip with an eager precision that left him whimpering his impatience.

“You are right about one thing,” Dorian said, hoping idle chatter would help him keep his composure a while longer. “Even though I am loathe to admit it.”

A chuckle rumbled against Dorian’s throat, followed by a teasing scrape of teeth. “Only about one thing?”

“Possibly others, but today I must say you are correct about the dragon slaying.”

He hooked the top of his foot around Rawley’s ankle and reached up to take hold of his shoulders. He flipped him easily, not entirely unconvinced the other man purposely did not put up much of a fight. Dorian straddled his legs and leaned down with a kiss and roll of his hips that left them both breathless.

“I could watch you fell those horrible beasts all day,” he breathed, his nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons on Rawley’s shirt. “Cloaked in flame, stern-faced and commanding,” he ripped open the shirt, paying no mind to a missed button that went clattering to the floor. “The way your shoulders move as you cast,” he said with a predatory curl of his lip and a slow splay of his hands across Rawley’s chest. “Exquisite.”

A triumphant grin spread across Dorian’s face as his eyes settled on the blush of pink dusting across Rawley’s collarbones. He lifted his hips ever so slightly and let out a quiet laugh; always at his most uncomfortable when being complimented.

“I’ve been called many things in my life, but this is a first for exquisite.”

“And that is nothing short of a crime,” Dorian said, making a show of removing his own shirt, one belt and buckle at a time. “It suits you quite well,” he insisted, dropping his shirt onto the floor. “I would also add, stunning and sexy,” he added, placing a kiss on Rawley’s chest between each word.

The laugh that left Rawley’s mouth at the last word was something closer to a snort and he covered his mouth to hold back another. Grinning, he lifted his hips once more as Dorian’s hand descended to the buckle and laces at the front of his breeches. Dorian felt his resolve to take this seriously crumble when Rawley wiggled his hips and hummed along to one of the Charger’s favorite bawdy tavern songs.

“You, my Darling, are drunk,” Dorian said, not leaving any room for questioning.

“I am not,” Rawley replied, his ears already bright red with the tell-tale blush of an obvious lie. “All right, perhaps a bit,” he admitted, struggling to kick off his boots. “Still think I’m exquisite?” he asked, rolling onto his side to strike a pose, now only clad in his smallclothes.

“Oh, most assuredly,” Dorian said.

He pushed Rawley back onto the bed and made quick work of his smallclothes. A teasingly slow stroke of Dorian’s hand was enough to cure Rawley of the giggles. Discretion made their past encounters relatively quiet affairs, both used to hiding such behavior from over-zealous Templars or disapproving parents. Drink it seemed, and Dorian’s skilled hand loosened Rawley’s tongue as a few more strokes and precise circles of Dorian’s thumb left him moaning and cursing with little attempt to curb the volume of his voice.

“I would say it is safe to assume you enjoy that,” Dorian teased.

He nodded and mumbled around an unintelligible groan in reply, gasping at another slow stroke of Dorian’s hand. The gasp gave way to a sharp hiss of pain as Dorian brushed against a new cut along his left thigh; the result of an aggravated dragon’s kick. Dorian lifted his hand instantly, even as Rawley moved his hips towards him in an attempt to keep contact.

“S’all right,” he insisted. “Doesn’t hurt much…barely a scratch.”

“You always get too close to their claws,” Dorian replied with a disapproving crease of his brow. “Your spells can be cast from a distance you know. Safe behind the swords of our more…stabby companions. You’ll be all scare tissue in a few months at this rate.”

Dorian kissed a trail of feather-light kisses down Rawley’s chest, pausing for a few teasing bites along his ribs. Becoming increasingly aware of the growing tightness in his own breeches Dorian continued his path down Rawley’s body, paying particular attention to his navel before placing light and careful kisses around the new cut on his thigh. He avoid the one place he knew Rawley most wanted him to touch, each whimper and lift of his hips bringing a devilish grin to his face.

“I thought you liked me rugged,” Rawley said, taking in a sharp breath when Dorian moved his mouth along the inside of his thigh.

“I like you many ways,” Dorian murmured, trailing his tongue up the underside of Rawley’s cock before taking the head into his mouth.

Dorian hummed his approval at the deep groan and sharp lift of Rawley’s hips towards his waiting mouth. Even as he felt encouraging fingers move through his hair and heard his name moaned repeatedly like a desperate mantra, Dorian kept his pace slow; intent on making things last. He twirled his tongue around the tip before lifting his mouth free of him entirely; a cruel smirk gracing his lips as he kissed Rawley’s thigh.

“Maker, Dorian,” he whimpered. He sighed, his lips moving into an exaggerated pout before asking with a flush of red embarrassment at his own forwardness and desperation. “How would you like me tonight?”

A wicked grin twitched beneath his mustache. He sat up and started to undo the buckles and laces of his breeches. Keenly aware that Rawley watched his every move Dorian made a show of it, arching his back to pull the leather breeches down over his hips before sitting back to kick his boots and pull his legs free of the confining garment. The old bed groaned as Rawley sat up to meet him, pulling him into a heated kiss while unashamedly grinding against the slick satin of Dorian’s smallclothes.

“Lie back down,” Dorian instructed, summoning all of his willpower not to finish before they even properly started.

Rawley grunted in dissatisfaction and moved in for another kiss, frowning when his advances were rebuffed.

“You asked how I would like you, yes?” Dorian asked, gripping the back of his neck to bare his throat. “Well, I would like you on your back, with me between your legs, fucking you into this filthy mattress until you scream my name and forget your own,” he said, sucking hard enough beneath Rawley’s chin to leave a mark.  
The little moan that followed was coupled with a laugh that made Dorian tighten his grip.

“Oh, you find that amusing?” he asked, adding some teeth to query.

“No, I…ow, easy. I only…Maker. That’s…very specific,” Rawley replied, the embarrassed blush returning with a vengeance.

Dorian loosened his grip and nibbled a far gentler path up to his ear. “You blush like a maiden,” he teased, giving Rawley’s backside an affectionate squeeze. “May I fuck you now, Lord Inquisitor?”

“Don’t call me that,” Rawley replied almost instantaneously, succeeding in capturing Dorian’s mouth in another heated kiss. “And yes.”

Dorian pried himself away to riffle through his belongings beside the bed. He returned with the small bottle in hand and an excited grin on his face. Smallclothes left in a forgotten pile on the floor Dorian climbed back onto the bed. He slicked his fingers and guided Rawley back onto the mattress before carefully and with all the speed of a glacier, he started to press a single finger inside him. The gasp and pleased wiggle of his hips made the task all the more enjoyable.

“What shall I call you then?” Dorian mused as he worked with careful precision to make Rawley ready for him. “I am rather fond of Darling and it suits you so well.”

“You could always use my name,” Rawley quipped. Another gasp tumbled past his lips as Dorian curled his finger ever so slightly. “Yes, do that,” he pleaded.

“I could,” Dorian replied, happily complying with the second request. “But anyone can call you by your name and I am not simply anyone.”

“No…no you’re not,” Rawley agreed, finding it increasingly difficult to listen to anything Dorian said as he slowly added another finger. “No one…Maker’s breath…no one really does though,” he said, biting his lip around a low moan. “Call me by name.”

Dorian moved his fingers inside him, curling and stretching the digits until Rawley’s back arched off the mattress and he lifted his hips to try and meet each new thrust.

“Dorian, please,” he moaned.

The soft plea sent a thrum of please to his core and he shook in anticipation as he slicked his cock with a few slow passes of his hand. His promise lewd promises of few moments before melted away to something gentler. The first slide was torturously slow, the room filled with quiet curses and groans until Dorian paused, buried to the hilt. Green eyes stared up at him with pupils blown wide, nearly chasing away any hint of the vibrant color at their edges. Those eyes closed as Dorian began to move in earnest.  
The usual quiet of their coupling returned with hitched breathes and whispered pleas of encouragement. Dorian felt heat coming off Rawley in waves, crackles of red sparked across his chest and arms as though flame burst just beneath his skin. He gripped the bedsheets at his sides, the faint smell of burnt cloth drifting up from where his fingertips singed the cotton.

“So beautiful, Amatus,” Dorian murmured.

Rawley cried out and clenched around him as he tumbled over the edge. Any small strand of control left Dorian in that moment. He managed a few more uneven thrusts before pleasure took him and he gave himself up to it gladly. Those few glorious moments after, bright with the glow of it and the cool slide back to reality were something he often feared. The end of a moment he wished could last forever. A tentative hand snaked across his torso, bolder by the second, until Rawley lay pressed against him, his head resting firmly on Dorian’s chest. He was hot to the touch, a welcomed furnace in the cold damp of the Storm Coast. Dorian draped his arm around him and kissed his brow.

“What does that mean?” Rawley asked, his pupils receding to brilliant green once more.

“Well, it is a kiss. You see people often…”

“Not that, ass,” Rawley chuckled, swatting him in the side before he could properly finish his sarcastic response. “Amatus. What does that mean?”

Dorian kissed him once more and let the question linger. He shivered as Rawley traced small circles across his chest and tried to hold back a persistent yawn. He hadn’t meant to say it. Although he wanted to countless times before. It always sat on the tip of his tongue, ready to betray him at a moment’s notice. There was no hiding his desires, his intentions after that word was uttered. It laid him bare and left him open to pain and rejection. He could lie. He could say it meant something else; hide behind a fake proclamation and witty remark. He could lie, but he didn’t want to.

“It means beloved,” he replied, his entire body tensing as his words hung heavy on the air.

“Oh,” Rawley murmured.

He buried his face into the crook of Dorian’s arm; ears burning red. “You can call me that…if you’d like.”

Dorian felt the smile against his skin and the instant lightening of an unseen weight upon his chest. “I would like that,” he whispered. “I would like that very much.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Rain tapped gently on the bedroom window rousing Dorian from sleep. He squinted at the soft gray light filtering in around the moth-eaten curtains with disdain. He wasn’t ready for morning. He wasn’t ready for the harsh reality of day. Turning away from the offending light a smile settled on his face at the sight of Rawley, hair mused and mouth hanging open in a quiet snore, pressed against his side. The blanket covering them was thin and barely long enough to reach the foot of the bed. It didn’t matter. Beside him Rawley radiated heat, chasing away the damp chill that waited for them beyond the comfort of the bed.

Dorian pressed a kiss atop the other man’s head, breathing in the scent of him. If this were before he would have slipped out hours ahead of the sunrise. He would have dressed in the dark, careful not to wake the sleeping man sprawled across the disheveled sheets and made a quiet exit to his own, empty room. If it was before he never would have let the word Amatus spill from his lips. Never would have meant it with every part of him. There would be no meaning it before, no saying it aloud even if he did. That was before. Before was gone. Locked away in the past where it belonged. This was now and now held the frightening possibility of more. Possibility that tugged at the corners of his mouth and settled warm and pleasant in his chest.

“Mmm, what time is it?” Rawley mumbled, snuggling closer to Dorian’s side with a pout and refusal to open his eyes.

Dorian could get used to now. 

“Sometime between sunrise and midday,” he replied, this time angling his kiss to Rawley’s forehead. “No one has come looking for us, so chances are it is still early.”

A pout and crinkle of his nose enticed Dorian to steal another kiss. A wandering hand, hot to the touch slid down his ribs and pulled a sigh from his lips still pressed to Rawley’s temple. Rawley chuckled, low and quiet, fingers now tracing the curve of Dorian’s hip. He chanced a searing kiss to Dorian’s chest and lightly scraped his teeth across his nipple.

“Maybe they won’t come looking,” he said, another scrape of his teeth making Dorian moan. “Maybe they’ll leave us alone. Let us have some much earned rest. We did slay a dragon after all.”

“It doesn’t appear that you have rest on your mind,” Dorian mused, trying to keep his tone light even as a swipe of a burning-hot tongue eased away the sting of careful bites.

Rawley lifted his head, green eyes bright and a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Dorian traced that smile with his thumb. This was how he liked him best; smiling and as content as his place in the world would allow. Dorian would take him away from all of this if he could, if that was ever an option. Away from the fighting, the death, the responsibility of leading the Inquisition, the weight that threatened to crush him with each new enemy or problem that surfaced. Dorian would have him free of it. He would have him smile, always.

“Well, I suppose if you’re more interested in sleeping…” Rawley said, managing a cheeky shrug even on his side. He caught hold of Dorian’s wrist and slowly took his thumb into his mouth, smiling around the digit. “We could go back to sleep,” he murmured, pulling up to flash another grin. “If you’re all tuckered out from last night.”

“Oh, so now you doubt my stamina?” Dorian asked, feigning shock. “I will have to prove you wrong, Lord Trevelyan. It could take all day, but you will soon find out that I am more than up to the task.”

Dorian swung his leg over him and perched triumphantly atop his hips. He traced the deepening blush along Rawley’s collarbone and rolled his hips until his Rawley’s quiet laughter turned to a moan. A wicked smile settled beneath Dorian’s mustache as he did another slow roll of his hips, stretching his arms up to make a show of it. The slight blush tinting Rawley’s skin pink burned the tips of his ears bright red and made the faint white tattoo around his left eye standout. 

“Well, if you insist, Lord Pavus,” he said around a chuckle. “But, talk is cheap.”

Rawley pushed up onto his elbows until he was sitting with Dorian firmly planted in his lap. The kiss that followed started slow, deepening with each new press of their lips until Dorian pulled away to catch his breath. He leaned his forehead against Rawley’s and slid his hand down between them to where their hips met. An appreciative purr rumbled in his chest as his hand wrapped around Rawley’s already hardening cock.

“I do so appreciate your enthusiasm this morning,” Dorian whispered, starting a long, slow slide of his hand. “Never let it be said that the Inquisitor doesn’t give his all.”

Another stroke and Dorian bit back a gasp at the feel of Rawley’s hand encircling him as well. “Must have been all those long visits to the Chantry and lectures about the evils of idleness my mother forced me to sit through,” Rawley replied, his breath hot against Dorian’s neck. “Left me with a proper fear of being called lazy.”

Laughter spilled over Dorian’s lips, even as he worked his hips slowly to encourage Rawley’s hand. “Oh, well, at least I have one thing to thank the Chantry for,” he said, circling his thumb over the tip of Rawley’s cock until he whimpered his approval. “And for all that practice being on your knees.”

“Oh, now that’s just wrong,” Rawley said around an infectious burst of laughter. “And…I will have you know that practice…was done at the Circle.”

He thrust into Dorian’s hand while keeping a firm grip with his own. A sharp knock on the door stopped them both short. Dorian felt the heat shimmering around them fade, the cold snap of reality settling in around them. A sigh left Rawley’s lips as he leaned his forehead against Dorian’s and closed his eyes. Dorian watched his smile slip away and the lines of worry settle on his face. He wasn’t going to stand for that.

“Inquisitor?” Leliana called out from the hallway, followed by another knock more impatient than the first. “We’re about to convene the war council for today.”

“So much for letting me rest,” Rawley whispered.

The smile returned, but there was no truth behind it. It waivered at the corners and failed to chase away the sadness in his eyes. Dorian would see him happy. He would see him smile. If only for the day. He could at least give him that. He disentangled his legs from Rawley, taking the other man by surprise. He wrapped a sheet around his waist and squared his shoulders in preparation for a fight. He pulled open the door only allowing enough space to stare out at a slightly annoyed looking Leliana.

“The Inquisitor will not be joining you at the war table this morning, nor anywhere else for the remainder of the day,” Dorian said, holding up his hand when she attempted to speak. “He needs his rest. In case you have forgotten he slayed a dragon yesterday. I do believe that has earned him a day of respite.”

“Right…rest,” she replied with a knowing smirk. She let her words hang in the air for a moment beyond comfortable before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Perhaps you are right. The Inquisitor was looking rather under the weather last night. A day of rest could be beneficial for all of us. I will inform the others.”

“Yes, excellent, it is best for everyone to realize that I usually am right,” Dorian replied, pausing as he started to close the door. “And if you could perhaps send some food up that would be most appreciated, with something sweet on the side if you could. You are a delight, thank you, Leliana.”

The door closed with a quiet click. Dorian turned back towards the bed and flashed a smile. A look of disbelief and amazement settled on Rawley’s face from where he sat atop the bed. Dorian dropped the sheet from his waist and crossed the room until he could reach him and pull him into a kiss. Heat flared to life in an instant, roaring like a blast furnace from under Rawley’s skin. His mouth opened to Dorian’s; every touch of his tongue and lips like fire. He took hold of his head and pulled back to press a searing kiss below Dorian’s ear before taking hold of it with his teeth.

“Did you just ask Leliana to bring me something sweet?” he asked, a hint of laughter dancing around the words. “I thought you said, and I quote, that garbage will rot your teeth and I do not fancy picking them up off the floor when they fall out of your head.”

Dorian could feel him smile as he trailed burning hot kisses down along the arch of his collarbone. Eager hands slid to Dorian’s waist and he gladly let them ease him back onto the bed. Sighing he closed his eyes and gave himself up to the feeling of hands like embers tracing scorching paths across his ribs and down over his hips. This was more. This was how he said it could be. The press of their bodies onto a warm mattress and the brush of a smile across his skin. He would stay in this room forever if the world would allow it.

“Firstly, that is a horrendous impression, I sound nothing like that. Secondly, I stand by that statement, but I thought perhaps you deserved a treat,” Dorian replied, trying his best to remain superior even as Rawley worked his way down to his body, lowering his mouth to Dorian’s hip bone in a way that was sure to leave a mark. 

“That is awfully nice of you,” Rawley said, slowly pushing apart Dorian’s knees to place a careful kiss on the inside of his thigh. “Careful, people will start to think you like me,” he added, glancing up at him with a cheeky grin.

“Let them,” Dorian murmured. He sunk further into the mattress, sighing as the next kiss to his thigh made his entire body shudder. 

“Do you mean that?”

Dorian’s eyes fluttered open. Hope clung to the question like tendrils of smoke, dissipating into quiet breath on the air. Dorian reached down to trace his thumb along the gentle curve of Rawley’s bottom lip until it pulled up at the corner into a smile.

“I would shout it from the rooftops if it made you smile like that, Amatus,” Dorian replied. 

The name was still new and foreign on his tongue; but easier every time he said it. The smile in question was suddenly pressed against his lips. Rawley pulled him close, kissing him until his lungs burned and his lips ached for more. 

“I love you.”

Dorian couldn’t be sure he heard him. He didn’t dare to say anything, didn’t dare to breathe. His heart clenched in his chest, the pain growing with every second that passed in silence. Rawley leaned into the crook of Dorian’s neck, his breath hot against the other man’s skin.

“I…I know you said you didn’t want more. That you weren’t sure where this is going, what this could be, but…” he sighed and lifted his head with resolve bright in his eyes. “You don’t have to say it back. I don’t expect you to, but I need you to know Dorian. I don’t know what’s going to happen, with any of this, but I needed to tell you. I need you to know how I feel incase…if we don’t win the next fight. I love you.”

Dorian took hold of Rawley’s face, searching his eyes for any hint of a lie. The tightness in his chest turned to a deep pang that settled heavy in his stomach. The smile was gone, lost in the slight tremor of Rawley’s bottom lip and the threat of tears behind his eyes. Dorian took hold of his face and leaned in to kiss a trail from Rawley’s forehead to his lips. 

“Why would you ever think I wouldn’t say it back, my Darling?” he asked, surprised at the huskiness of his own voice. “I thought I was being rather obvious in my…affection.”

He tilted Rawley’s chin up, forcing his gaze. He thought this moment would be terrifying or more likely never to occur. He assumed the worst and never dared hope for more. This was more, honest and real and warm to the touch. He could hold him in his arms and see the truth in his eyes when he said those words. Words he thought weren’t meant for him. The sharp reality that Rawley felt the same, that he didn’t think those words were for him either, twisted painful and real in his chest.

“You are my Amatus,” he said, holding strong. “I love you,” he added with a haughty air. “And we’re going to win every fight and if you say otherwise again I will be forced to smack some sense into you.”

The smile returned, slow and cautious at first before stretching into a grin that crinkled his eyes at the corners and made the pain in Dorian’s chest fade to a welcomed glow. He would have him smile like that always.


	3. Chapter 3

“This is the best chocolate cake I have ever had,” Rawley said, adding an almost perverse moan when Dorian fed him another forkful.

A warm trill of laughter tumbled over Dorian’s lips, shaking the small plate of cake he held aloft above the bedsheets. It was well past midday now, the remnants of breakfast littering the tray on the floor beside the bed. Rain still tapped steadily against the window, cloaking the small bedroom in soft gray light. If he tried hard enough he could imagine this was the real world. A lazy morning spent in bed with the man he loved, without a multitude of threats and responsibility waiting for them just beyond the bedroom door. They had today. He wasn’t about to waste it worrying about tomorrow.

“I do believe you say that about every piece of cake you meet,” Dorian teased, scooping up a bit of frosting on his finger to give Rawley another taste. 

“Well, maybe I have been extremely lucky in the quality of my cake encounters,” Rawley replied, taking Dorian’s finger into his mouth around a quiet chuckle.

The heat of Rawley’s tongue passing over Dorian’s skin made him give his own appreciative moan. He carefully set the plate atop the rickety bedside table and took hold of Rawley’s face for a kiss. The sweet taste of chocolate and sugar met his exploring tongue and made him smile against the press of their lips. Dorian pulled back and lightly kissed the tip of Rawley’s nose, followed by the corner of his mouth.

“It occurs to me that I know precious little about any of your previous…encounters,” Dorian said, his next kiss landing on the shine of scar tissue that wrapped under Rawley’s chin.

“You want to hear about cake?” he asked with a laugh. “I hope you have some free time, this could take a while.”

Dorian left one more kiss along Rawley’s jaw before sitting up. He smoothed back Rawley’s bed-tousled hair, smiling when it stubbornly stood back up in an instant. The recent memory of whispered proclamations of love thrummed in his chest and made his skin tingle. Part of him thought it a dream or some cruel joke he wasn’t a part of. It wouldn’t be the first time someone murmured something he wanted to hear in the heat of passion or in the glowing aftermath. He could spot those lies a mile away; said through thinly veiled smirks by men who thought it necessary to get more of what they wanted. 

“I want to hear about you,” Dorian replied, a hint of warmth settling on his cheeks. He leaned in for a proper kiss to hide any hint of nerves in his voice. “Who else have you…shared cake with?” he asked.

Dorian smirked into another kiss, feeling a sudden rush of heat emanate from Rawley’s skin. He wasn’t surprised to find a rapid blush already spread across Rawley’s face and chest when he leaned back with a raised eyebrow. Another attempt to flatten Rawley’s hair ended in failure and the look of surprise and apprehension on his face started to make regret swirl in Dorian’s stomach.

“You…you want to know who I’ve been with?” he asked, another flash of heat making his ears burn bright red.

Dorian stretched to kiss one, blowing cool air across the burning skin. “Is that so odd?” he asked. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about my previous exploits?”

“Umm, not particularly,” Rawley said, a tiny gasp leaving his lips at the feeling of Dorian’s teeth upon his earlobe. “I mean, I like our exploits.”

Dorian leaned back, eyes wide and mouth agape. “You…there have been others, haven’t there?” he asked, the possibility that he was Rawley’s first never even a consideration.

“No, I mean, yes there were others, but not…it wasn’t…why do you want to know?” Rawley stammered. 

Dorian was of the opinion that flustered looked good on the blushing, stammering man beside him. He took another pass at Rawley’s ear with his teeth. He splayed his hands over his chest and moved his fingers to ghost over the soft hair covering his abdomen. A tiny whimpered spurred him on and fanned his curiosity.

“Why are you so reluctant to tell me?” Dorian asked, unable to keep a smug air from his voice. “Oh, was it some grand scandal? Perhaps an illicit affair with a married man? If you think you’ll shock me I think it only fair to warn you that I’m not so easily astonished.”

“No marriage in the Circle,” Rawley mumbled, biting his lip and letting out a frustrated sigh when Dorian refused to move his hand lower. “You’re going to tease me until I break, aren’t you?”

“That was in fact the plan,” Dorian replied, sucking on Rawley’s neck until he hissed from the pain and moved his hips in an attempt to inch Dorian’s teasing fingers lower.

“Fine, right two. There were two,” Rawley said, gripping the back of Dorian’s head to pull him into a kiss.

“At once?” Dorian asked with a dramatic gasp. “I know you have enviably stamina, but my, my Lord Trevelyan. I never thought…”

“Not at once, just…two; separate,” Rawley said, stopping his teasing short. He took hold of Dorian’s shoulders and pushed him back against the bed, kissing him until his lungs burned for air but left him wanting more. “Neither ended well and they don’t matter,” he leaned forward until their foreheads touched, his knees tight on either side of Dorian’s torso. He rolled his hips forward and bit his bottom lip when he brushed up against Dorian. “I love you. You’re what matters. You’re mine now, aren’t you?” 

“Yes.”

Dorian did not recognize the voice as his own. It was a strangled, desperate thing that held the weight of a lifetime of disappointment and longing in that one, small word. He took hold of Rawley’s face, eager to kiss him; needing it. Words usually came with ease for him as most things did. He could spin a lie and weave an argument without a moment’s notice or outwit someone in the same breath. Speechlessness did not sit well with a man who used words as a weapon as easily as he wielded his staff, but he was never one to back down from a challenge.

“And you are mine, Amatus,” Dorian purred.

He lifted his hips to meet Rawley’s next dip of his, moaning at the slow slide of skin on skin. He lightly ran his hands over Rawley’s ribs, knowing each dip and curve and where best to touch to make the other man gasp or laugh in quick succession. It was something new to know another’s body with such precision; something new and something wonderful. A warm and inviting familiarity that still sparked with discovery and anticipation. He would gladly spend the rest of his days traversing every inch of him.

“I…I want you,” Rawley breathed hot against Dorian’s neck. “Like last night.”

His voice hitched and heat roared like a furnace off his chest and arms; a dull orange glow thrumming beneath his skin with every pass of Dorian’s body over his. A smile that bordered more than just a little on a smirk settled on Dorian’s lips. He trailed his nails over Rawley’s back, stopping right above the curve of his backside.

“Mmm, you’ll have to be more specific,” he murmured, leaning forward for another kiss. “We were quite prolific last night.”

“You know what I mean,” Rawley replied, avoiding eye contact and blushing scarlet.

Dorian gave Rawley’s butt an affectionate squeeze. “Do I?” he asked coyly. “I suppose I can add mind reading to the long list of my many talents.”

“If you’re not interested…” Rawley replied, grinding his hips with a bit more urgency.

A failed attempt to hold back a laugh ended in a snort that made Dorian’s ears burn pink. He tried to regain a dignified air and the upper hand in the situation. He was most certainly interested. Magic crackled icy cold along his fingertips, tracing a path up Rawley’s ribs that made the other man gasp and buck against the change in temperature.

“Lie down,” Dorian instructed, rolling atop him to reach for the small glass bottle on the nightstand.

His attempt at dignity was lost in a flailing struggle across his lover’s body, the bottle nearly slipping from his grasp in the process. Laughter rumbled in Rawley’s chest, quiet and earnest and warm to hear. Dorian kissed a path down his body, pausing to lavish attention on the jut of his left hip bone. Tongue splayed across the thin covering of skin he sucked until he heard another gasp. He glanced up at Rawley through dark lashes, his own arousal aching at the sight of him warm and wanton with his hands gripping the sheets.

“So beautiful,” Dorian murmured, raising an eyebrow at the tiny scoff his compliment earned. “You disagree?” he asked, ever-so slightly ghosting a kiss along the underside of his cock.

“What?” Rawley whimpered.

“You don’t think you’re beautiful?” Dorian asked, trailing his tongue up to the tip.

“I…never really…I don’t know,” Rawley replied, struggling to make anything resembling a coherent sentence while Dorian continued to tease him.

“You don’t know? Well, that will not stand,” Dorian said, making a disapproving tut sound before placing a chaste kiss on his stomach. “Now, I like to imagine that I am a bit of an expert on beauty. I have lived with my own legendary good looks my entire life after all.”

Rawley’s laughter abruptly ended in as Dorian lowered his mouth over the tip of his cock. He moved down the shaft with an appreciative hum. Pulling up he twirled his tongue over the head and lifted his head with a loud pop. The whimper and squirm from the man beneath him made Dorian flash a triumphant grin.

“Your smile,” he said, popping the cork from the top of the bottle. “That is your most beautiful feature. With the risk of sounding trite it truly does light up a room. Although, your eyes are a close second,” he mused, coating his fingers with oil. “Such a wonderful shade of green. Honestly, I’ve never seen a pair quite like them.”

“Fetching, I think you said,” Rawley replied around a chuckle that ended in a gasp as Dorian slid the tip of a finger inside him. “Maker, that’s cold.”

“It could be colder,” Dorian teased, a crackle of magic forewarned the icy feel of Dorian’s free hand along Rawley’s hip. “I can feel the steam coming off you,” Dorian said, reaching up to squeeze one of Rawley’s nipples into a hard point. “Beautiful.”

“Oh,” Rawley hissed, biting his lip and arching his back towards Dorian’s icy touch. “Do that again…with your finger.”

“Sweet, Andraste, was that direction? I shall mark the date; Rawley Trevelyan actually told me what he wants,” Dorian exclaimed with teasing exuberance and a kiss to the inside of his thigh.

“Then shut it and do as I ask,” Rawley said, a blush flaring to life across his neck and chest at his own forwardness.

Dorian laughed at the expected knock of Rawley’s knee against the side of his head. He held off another half-hearted attack by pushing his finger in past the knuckle with one, slow, cold slide of the digit. The resulting gasp and clench that followed only encouraged him further. Careful circles and the slow stroke of his finger made room for a second digit. Another quiet incantation and flash of cold made Rawley’s entire body shiver.

“Th-that…oh…there,” he whimpered, lifting his hips to meet the next push of Dorian’s fingers.

“Too cold?” Dorian asked as he slowly started to scissor his fingers. 

“No…no that’s good,” Rawley said with a hurried shake of his head and lift of his hips. “You can…harder if you want.”

Rawley’s skin flushed pink once more inviting Dorian in for a taste. “Oh, if I want?” Dorian asked in an airy, teasing voice, his lips still pressed against the burning skin of Rawley’s inner thigh. “I thought you were in a bossy mood, but now so polite. Perhaps I should make you say please.”

Despite his teasing the next slide of Dorian’s fingers hit with more urgency. Flashes of cold surrounded by searing heat. Quiet moans of encouragement melded with the patter of rain against glass. Sparks of green crackled along the mark that marred Rawley’s hand; making bright staccato flashes in time to the growing glow of red beneath his chest. The light dimmed as he gripped the bedsheets and raised his hips.

“Please,” he whimpered, biting back a groan as Dorian’s fingers curled inside him. “Need you.”

Dorian felt a wave of heat wash over him, pulling a sigh from his lips. He let his cooling spell melt away, giving himself up to it. One last kiss to Rawley’s thigh and Dorian sat back, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of Rawley waiting for him. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely. How could I ever refuse?” Dorian replied, not bothering to quiet his own moan as he slicked himself with oil.

“W-wait,” Rawley said, sitting up.

He crawled forward and placed his hands on Dorian’s shoulders, hovering over his lap. Reaching down he added his hand to Dorian’s and kissed him to cut short the resulting moan. Guiding Dorian to his entrance he started the slow, deliberate slide down his length. He took his time, his fingers digging into Dorian’s shoulders as their kiss threatened to bruise eager lips. A tiny gasp breathed hot against Dorian’s neck when Rawley seated against his thighs.

“If I had…known how much you seem to like this, we could have done it ages ago,” Dorian said, fighting to keep his airy tone amid the feel of Rawley surrounding him.   
“I didn’t…know,” Rawley replied. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched and gasped as he rolled his hips. “But…but we have a lifetime to find out…what else we like,” he said, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” Dorian murmured, kissing him in hopes of remembering that smile for always. “Yes, Amatus. We do.”


End file.
